Tag: pagan

This past week I had the discomfort of making space for my grief. It was Semik on Thursday and that’s gonna take a minute to unpack. So let’s dig in, shall we? This story is one that I have never told in its entirety before, and may not ever do so again.

Semik is a Slavic tradition of memorial and rituals for the dead who were taken before their time. Think of it much like the Slavic version of Dia de los Muertos or All Hallows. Add in some ritual fasting and fertility festival and you have yourself one exhausted grad student.

I lost a friend to suicide a year ago this week. On the day of Semik, actually. Which made this year all the more potent. I had to sit with my grief and go through the process. And let me tell you-holding space for your grief is not only exhausting, it’s the only way to go.

Instead of my normally bubbly self, my field instructor mentioned my reserved silence. I told her what was going on and she checked in with me a couple times again after that. I gave my clients all I could and I went to work and survived. I made peace with my pain. I gave myself permission to cry. And that was the only thing I could do.

So why am I talking about it now?

Because I am human. And no matter what exactly that means, grief is a tie that binds. Everyone will experience it in their own time and manner. And being less than a year from my licensure as a LMSW, I know that if I can’t make space for authenticity, I can’t do my job.

So if you’re feeling broken. If you’re feeling overwhelmed. If you’re struggling with your grief, your sadness, your fear. You aren’t alone in these. You are surviving and thriving-whether it looks like it or not.

Grief can come down on you like a wave while you’re drowning in an ocean. It can crush you into nonexistence and bring you to your knees. It will grind you down.

I read once that grief is just love with nowhere to go. I’d add regret to that as well. And guilt.

It was June 13 of last year and I couldn’t sleep. I had tried everything but I couldn’t settle my thoughts. I decided to pull up some guided meditations to “force reset” my brain. I listened to a couple without much luck and then settled on a shamanic drumming meditation. I’d never done one before but figured I had nothing to lose.

In the course of this 30 minute meditation, I felt myself relax and begin drifting. I was coming to the end of the meditation and was somewhere between awake and asleep-that place where you know you’re not quite either but you’re closer to sleep than awake. And as I began preparing for the end of the recording I heard the words “Come find me.”

I ripped the headphones out of my ears and tossed my iPad across the bed. Instead of being in the place of tranquility, as I had been moments before, my heart was racing, my body surging with adrenaline. What had that been? Was it part of the recording? (I went back and checked much later-it wasn’t.) It took ages to fall asleep after that.

The next morning I had a message from a friend asking if I’d heard about a mutual friend. I said I had just talked to her, that we’d been discussing a new student group she wanted to start. He asked if I had checked my email. I said I hadn’t. So I logged in.

And there it was. A death notice. The night before, around the time of my meditation, our mutual friend had died by suicide.

If I could accurately describe the way the world moved from under me, I would. It was like the universe shifted a fraction of an inch and I had stayed still. I became nauseous and despondent.

Come find me.

Had it been her? Did I believe that? What if I did? What did that mean?

In the days coming I became so overwhelmed with the need to protect myself from further destruction that I hid every sharp object. I talked to every friend I had ever had a mental health conversation with. I made preparations for my own safety and sanity. I was terrified that this was something that would come down on me if I didn’t protect myself in every way possible.

And on the morning of her funeral, I couldn’t find it in me to go. I got a text from someone who had promised to be my moral support asking where I was. I said I was running late and would be there soon.

“You weren’t there for her in life, so you might as well be there for her funeral.” I said to myself. I got in the car and sped the whole way there. It was the first Catholic funeral I had ever been to.

I carried that guilt with me for a year. And this week, I passed it into the universe. I made peace with my grief and let go.

Tonight there was a lightning storm where I live. The first I’ve seen since I moved from Ohio.

Do I understand this as a sign? Sure I do. Because that’s who I am -the pagan girl who thrives in the storms, who is called She Who Guides the Water. Do I miss her? Of course I do. The third person in my life taken by suicide. The third too many.

Hold space for your grief. Give it a place to go. Don’t let it consume you.

We are all in this together, folks. Tomorrow is a brighter day. We just have to make it there.

I like to record my experiences, both through pictures on my instagram, but also here-where words take precedent. Today, I’d like to document an experience of a spiritual nature. The day I got a a spiritual read from Abby Black.

Tl;dr- I asked a tarot reader to enlighten me. I was pleasantly surprised. Here’s my recommendation for her.

Now I know, not everyone agrees with the idea of tarot, and that’s you’re right. I, however, know the energy that the cards have and respect people who can actually use them to help people. The most basic concept behind it is using a deck of cards and then interpreting the pictures in order to give meaning to experience. It’s a LOT more complicated than that, but that’s the simplest I can put it. If you’d like to know more about my read with Abby, or about tarot itself, I would be more than happy to chat.

I’d had a pretty chaotic day, a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings and I happened to jump on Facebook for a minute. I saw Abby post about having a couple minutes to spare and I commented. I’ve mentioned wanting a read a few times, but our schedules always clash. As luck would have it, we both had time. Now, I should note that while I post a fair amount on Facebook, I typically keep my posts to these blogs, political activism and some mental health stuff. I haven’t posted anything about what I’m going through in a very long time. And I didn’t post about my day, used lots of smiley faces (as per usual) and I gave no background information. I’ve never even met her in real life, we haven’t heard each other’s voices and that’s about all I want to say on that. My point is: we don’t know each other at all.

Abby told me initially she’d do a 5 card spread-to get to know me and my situation. I waited, wondering what we’d discover together. And although what the cards said was personal, I can promise that it was spot on. She knew my big fears, what was plaguing me and why I kept feeling weighed down. Things I tell no one except Ben, my husband. And that’s saying something because I’ve shared just about all my secrets with ya’ll.

Then she did a karmic read, to find out why my soul is here, what I have to learn in this life. And that’s when the tears came. I expected the cards to be pretty accurate, as I’ve worked with tarot before-but not so humblingly so. She was honest, but not in a brutally harsh way and I respect the hell out of that.

Then she did a financial read. Now, it’s important to point out that I had not asked any questions or really commented on anything at this point. She would pause every now and then and ask if I understood, which I did, and then carry on. This read happened over Facebook Messenger-and she saw no facial expressions. Anyway, she was able to parse out information that I’d been circling for weeks. And I actually felt a lot more resolved.

When things were starting to wrap up, I told her I had one question. An identity question. I told her I “felt adrift” and left it at that. She took a moment and came back with suggestions for reading material, spiritual items I’d been eyeballing (but hadn’t decided myself if I wanted), practices for focusing on self and self-care and more. When we were both finished discussing, she offered to chat about some of the things again at a later time-when I was in a different energy-and I greatly appreciated that, as sometimes the questions come much later for me.

Overall thoughts and reflections: While I am not new to tarot and scrying and looking for the truth, this read was different. It wasn’t vague, it wasn’t short-sighted and it wasn’t hard to understand. I “walked away” from it with a sense of peace and clarity that I’d been missing for a long time. I’m so happy I took the chance and reached out.

Yesterday, as I was waiting on customers, a woman in a hijab came through my line. I asked her to wait a moment so I could finish up with my current customer. Before I grabbed a pair of gloves I said,

“Before I start, I have a question for you.” I’m not sure what went through her mind in that split second, but I know the look on her face was unsure and borderline scared. “The lady before you had a ham sandwich-would you like me to get new knives?”

Her face immediately lit up-and all fear was gone. “Yes please, that would be great.”

So I go to the back and grab new knives, put on a fresh pair of gloves and make sure that I made their food without contaminating it. I made sure they knew when I switched stations that it was a new knife there as well-just in case they hadn’t seen me set it on fresh wrapper. When I rang her out, she said

“I just wanted to say thank you. It’s very rare to find anyone who will accommodate us.”

A million things ran through my mind to say, but all that came out was “It’s no problem at all.” You see, what I wish I had said was:

I’m so sorry that it’s rare to be treated as a human being, with equality and kindness. I’m not an expert at much, but I know that getting between you and your god isn’t going to do me any favors with me and mine, and it just makes me an asshole. If taking five seconds out of my day to get extra knives means that you can find peace at the end of your life, then I am so happy it was me you got as your server tonight. I know the media sees you and your religion as a threat, but I see you as people. I know you just wanted a sandwich and I want you to know that I did my best. I want you to know that it’s never an inconvenience to be a decent person-because I know the power of kindness. And I want you to know that just as Da-esh does not represent you in any way, so too am I not represented by the man who holds the title of president and his racist allies.

I wish I’d told you about how I went to a Ramadan feast and it opened my mind and heart to see strangers offering me food-even though they hadn’t eaten all day. About how I though your hijab was absolutely beautiful and that it complimented your skin tone really nicely.

I wish I’d had said these things, but all I said was that it wasn’t a problem. And it wasn’t. I just wish you knew why.

The theme for Sexual Assault Awareness Month is Engaging New Voices. According to the NSVRC (National Sexual Violence Resource Center), the targets for involvement are: Greek life members, Coaches, Fathers and Faith Leaders. It’s one of those occasions where I get to don my faith leader hat and use it to further an important cause.

I’m Pagan. Those words are already a turn off to a lot of people, and I know that. All it means is that I find the divine in nature. I think that’s pretty amicable grounds-Chrsitians often cite nature as a way to prove their beliefs. Islam’s holy book is filled with depictions of nature. It’s universal because it surrounds us. But I’m bringing this up for a different reason.

A LOT of mythologies contain depictions of assault. Native stories about Coyote have them, Celtic stories, Norse stories, Greek and Roman traditions, even Slavic ones. And there are mentions of it in Judeo-Christian texts as well. It would seem, from the beginning of the written word (at least), sexual assault has occured. I think though, the most well-known story about it is Medusa. This story is one that I hold dear-but for a little different reasons. I’ve told other people, but I think it’s a really good lesson for others as well, plus it fits with the current climate.

(Cellini, 1554)

The version that is spread around in academic settings, and even in pop culture is the following.

Enter Medusa, an incredibly beautiful woman who devoted herself to her beliefs. She worshipped the goddess Athena, who was a virginal goddess-meaning her followers would also be virgins. Poseidon, god of the sea, seeing that Medusa was beautiful, came to visit her and try to woo her. Medusa was devout and refused his advances, returning inside the temple to pray. Poseidon followed after her and raped her. Athena, then angry, cursed Medusa to live as a Gorgon-a winged snake woman with snakes for hair and eyes that turned men to stone. Medusa is then killed by Perseus and her head was removed and used later. Perseus is hailed a hero, having vanquished a foe, with the help of other gods.

But that’s not the version I know. Here’s the version I learned.

Medusa, an incredibly beautiful and intelligent woman, lived her life devoted to her faith. She worshipped the goddess Athena, known for her wisdom and strategy, as well as being a virginal goddess. Her followers, then, chose to remain chaste as well. Poseidon, god of the sea and enemy of Athena, saw that Medusa was beautiful and came to visit her, to try to woo her and make her one of his followers instead. Medusa refused his advances, returning to the temple to pray in safety. Poseidon, angry at her rejection, followed her and raped her, then left. Athena returned to her temple to find Medusa, no longer a virgin, crying. Athena told Medusa that she could no longer be a servant in the temple, but that Athena would like to help her. When asked what she needed, Medusa told Athena that she needed a way to protect herself from all who would harm her. Athena then turned Medusa into a Gorgon, giving her the power to stop anyone who came to harm her in her tracks.

The first version is told from a male perspective. Perseus conquers the monster and sets everything back in balance. The thing I couldn’t ever get past was Athena punishing Medusa for being raped. That wasn’t her fault. Rape is NEVER the victim’s fault. And for the longest time, I felt like mythology had made a giant mistake. Until I came across the version I know. Instead of punishing someone who was already punished, the victim became a survivor. And that’s why I share that story.

Sexual Assault and Rape and Domestic Violence is not the victim’s fault. It doesn’t matter the circumstances, the clothing, the drinks, the location. That’s why SAAM is important.

I woke up this morning and could just smell the injustices of the world. You know, it just hung like smog around the earth. And I knew I had to do something about it. What did I want to do? Blog? Eventually. Protest? Protest what? Spend my money where my alliances lign up? Yes indeedy. I decided I was gonna don the robe of justice and bring my voice to the masses.

I went to Target today. I’ve been there, but never bought anything from the store before. I “dressed up for justice”.. I did my hair, my makeup, put on my nicest clothes, grabbed my “power” heels, my husband and my wallet and drove to the store. Did I need anything from Target? Not necessarily. But what I needed was to make sure that I supported a business who supports equality.

Now I must add some comments about my attire, because the choices were very deliberate. I decided I was gonna rock the body I so seldom ply truly love. I was proud of the way I looked. What you may not be able to see are the three rings I am wearing. One is my engagement ring/wedding band combo. That one is very obvious as to why I should wear it (and he’s the one who took the first photo). One is a moonstone, which represents femininity and one is just a piece of costume jewelry that I love and use only on special occasions-with this being a holiday and all, I thought it was a good enough reason. On one of my wrists I am wearing a blue and pink bracelet and the other I am wearing a rainbow one. Obviously the rainbow one is for gay support, but the other one is for bisexuality support. I have many friends who are L/G and I belong to the “bi” category. I chose a black and white striped dress because a white and black flag is the one used by straight allies. As I have said, I do not fit in the “straight” category, but I am an ally and I’m not transgender or transsexual, so I thought it was fitting. And grey leggings because grey is the color for asexuallity, which brings us almost completely to all the letters of LGBTQIA. And the heels? Those are my “I’m gonna sue you” heels. My eyes have teal eyeliner, because that is the color for sexual assault awareness. All in all, this is my first day of dressing up for what I believe in, and it marks the start of my career in human rights.

﻿I needed to know what it felt like to look business professional for something I truly believe in, because that is going to be the rest of my life. I’m adding pictures as proof that I actually went there-and bought stuff, because words are just words, you know?

The model looks like she’s resting on my head. And I’m pretty impressed with the amount of frizz that is absent from my hair!

There’s the frizz! In the mirror! But ultimately, I took this picture in the bathroom aisle because that’s what this is all about (and I really didn’t have to pee). I’m really pretty pleased with my selfie game here. Classy.

You know, I posted a status on my Facebook page about how I was going to go to Target today and if that offended anybody, they should unfriend me. I’m a big girl, it won’t hurt my feelings to lose “friends” whom I do not agree with on issues of human rights. It honestly should not come as a surprise that I support bathroom equality. Because it’s all about human equality. I do not identify as transgender nor do Iidentify as a transsexual. But I identify as a human being. And the thing is, statistically speaking, trans people are the ones getting attacked and sexually assaulted, not doing the attacking. And you know what else? If parents were worried about their kids being in situations which might be dangerous, why aren’t the parents going to the facilities with their children? My parents did up until I was old enough to know that I could use the restroom without help, and with the understanding that if something happened, I’d scream like murder (I’d say I was about 8, maybe 10).

The thing is, people are afraid of what they don’t understand. And that’s not how we should live. This blog is my stance. So to all you Chrsitians and Catholics who say that you love like Jesus did and then immediately cry for the persecution of transgender and transsexual individuals, you are the problem. Jesus didn’t only love the people just like him. He just loved. The end. No qualifiers, no categories. And you’re doing Christianity wrong if you love any other way but unconditionally. And you know what, that goes for all religions, including having no religion at all. If you’re for equality, for safety, for love, for humanity, for the future, for living to the fullest and you are anti this topic, you’re not living your life to the fullest capacity. You are, in fact, holding everyone else back. I know, I’m a radical millennial (I was born in 1992. I call myself everything but a millennial, but whatever.) and I haven’t “experienced” life yet. But you know what, I don’t need 40 or 50 or 70 years of life to know that there are good people and bad people in the world and that chances are, you’re only assuming that someone belongs in a certain category because you don’t understand it. Do I know what it’s like to be a trans individual? Nope. But I have friends who do. And I treat them like human beings. Period. Because that’s what they are.

I can only hope that if one of my future children identifies as a member of the trans community, that they know how much I love them as a person, not as a prescribed way of being. And I wish this “issue” were more personal for people. Because until you have seen and heard and been a part of the life of someone who is trans, you really don’t understand what the “big deal” is. And that is half the problem.

Forgive the mess! This is my favorite selfie of the day.

So thank you Target, for allowing me to enter your store, for placing store representatives who smiled at me and asked me if I found everything okay. Thank you for supplying products to a less than straight pagan woman in Ohio and her husband. Thanks for letting me wander around and take some selfies. Thanks for having the products that I was wanting to pick up and for putting those discount stickers on stuff.

But more than that, thank you. Thank you, Target. Thank you for serving the people of our fair country to the best of your inclusive ability. Thank you for ensuring that customers and patrons feel that they are protected and appreciated enough that they can be themselves. Thank you for remembering that we are all human in the end and that there is inherent good in the people of our human race. Thank you for embracing the things that make us all unique-even when there are so many who do not understand. Thank you for opening your hearts when others would have you open the door to bigotry and fear. Thank you for ensuring that the bullseye symbol which you have chosen as your brand does not stand for the way in which you “target” people different from you, but for the way it encircles all walks of life in one unified stance. And lastly, thank you for not giving in. I can only imagine what trans people feel when they see the hatred and fear coming from their fellow humans and I am so glad that you have provided a light in the darkness.

In a post that got deleted before it was published, I talked about how I was tired of the concrete jungles, the greys of the world and how I needed a chance to reconnect to the earth, to feel the grass in my toes and to find a balance in my soul. I grew solemn, the chance of that happening becoming increasingly apparent that I would have to wait. And I resolved myself to the fact that I would take a trip to a park or something. I knew I had to find a way out.

Sometimes you find a quote in your life that really impacts you-even if you don’t know it yet. For me, that quote came from the movie V for Vendetta. Evey had just come out of her captivity and walked out on to the balcony with the line:

God is in the rain.

And when the thunder rolled in to my little apartment, the clouds growing darker and the skies hiding from the sun, I realized that my moment had come. I took the dog out quickly, before the thunder became too much and then I left him inside with my husband and ran outside. The lightning struck, the thunder rolled and the rain began to pour in waves. And the smile on my face could not have been any bigger. Now I am completely aware of the dangers of being outside in a storm, but I have danced with the lightning for years, and I do not believe that the thunder beings will hurt me. That’s a personal belief-not delusions.

I realized that Evey was right. God is in the rain. And as I stood there, getting soaked through, I talked to him (and her). I asked and they answered. I thanked them for bringing me happiness, for finding a way to make me understand that I wasn’t alone. That I had the strength within me to battle my demons, to make a new start and to find my hope-wherever I put it.

For whatever reason, it became unacceptable for adults to dance in the puddles. There was an age when it was no longer what “ladies” do. But I have to be honest, each time the rain pours down, I feel myself being cleansed of all of the negativity and the anguish and the stress that I felt and being made new. And the thing is, I know to others I look silly. I look like I’m immature and irresponsible and wacky. But the way I see it, the only one who can decide if I’m being silly is me. And if dancing in the rain is how I communicate with my gods, then no one can take that away from me.

This past week has been rough. I’ve been dealing with some things that shall remain private, and it’s put some stress on my husband who has had to endure late night talks into the wee hours of the dawn and the constant need for help. He’s been a real hero about it and with his help, I rise stronger each time. So by the time the rain fell, I knew that it was sent for me.